


The Face we choose to miss

by wendelah1



Category: Fringe (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 16:24:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendelah1/pseuds/wendelah1
Summary: This time, he didn't just leave for a new city; he left an entire world behind.Episode tag for "Worlds Apart."





	The Face we choose to miss

**Author's Note:**

> For [thatwasjustadream's prompt](https://wendelah1.dreamwidth.org/614993.html?thread=3436369#cmt3436369).

"The Shock of the New." It was the title of an old television series about modern art that he'd had to sit through for Art History his last year at Temple University. He'd majored in criminal justice, minored in accounting. The class was for a breadth requirement he'd been putting off since his freshman year. Lincoln had hated modern art from the get-go and the instructor hadn't changed his mind. He hadn't thought about the class since he earned his degree, not until this year. He had been talking with Olivia about his decision to move to Boston after Robert's death. What he was feeling had nothing to do with Cubism or Fauvism but even so, the phrase perfectly described the cognitive dissonance Lincoln had experienced after Robert died. 

Losing Robert was hard enough, but the way that he died--it was incomprehensible. The shock and grief had nearly overwhelmed Lincoln. He cut his ties to New Haven, ostensibly to find Robert's killer, but really, it was for self-preservation. The work was all he had left, work and his nascent feelings for Olivia. Then, in a matter of months, Peter Bishop appeared out of nowhere and her memories of a different life returned. Not only was she in love with this man Peter, she no longer felt anything for Lincoln; in fact, she could barely remember him. Just like that, he lost Olivia, too.

So he did it again, except this time, he didn't just leave for a new city: he left an entire world behind. 

There was no "Your Alternate Universe Survival Guide" for Lincoln to consult, no New Citizen Orientation for him to attend. However, the Fringe Division in this universe had devoted a decade collecting intelligence in order to infiltrate the other universe. He found it ironic that their playbook was just as useful to him for learning about their world as it had been for programming their shape-shifters to destroy his. He studied it every chance he got. Their universe was now his universe. Their side was now his side. The government responsible for creating that—thing—which had murdered Robert, it was Lincoln's government now. He had chosen his fate. He could only hope it was the right choice.

Though Fringe Division wasn't a Top Secret operation over here, a security clearance was still required for employment. While the unfortunate person assigned to his case tried to figure out how to perform a background check on a man who wasn't in their database, Lincoln was transferred to Public Affairs. Confirmation of the existence of another universe was still big news, even here. It had been over six weeks since the Bridge had been closed. Requests for interviews from media outlets and even universities hadn't let up and frankly, their questions had become tedious. 

The most common question was simple enough: "What do you miss most about the other universe?" The answer he always gave was coffee. It brought a knowing chuckle. It was a convenient fib. He hardly missed coffee at all; as it turned out, he preferred black tea. He could barely acknowledge the true answer to himself, let alone say it aloud: he missed Olivia. _Christ_. He had to get over her. Of course, if he were being honest with himself, he still wasn't over Robert. 

What he hadn't expected was how much Liv reminded him of Olivia. Their family and romantic histories were dissimilar, as were their personal styles. But apart from the obvious physical resemblance, there were subtler things, like the way they both tilted their heads and looked off in the distance when something or someone made them uncomfortable. There were other commonalities, too, but that was the one he'd noticed first. Though it was for different reasons, at times, Lincoln made both of them feel uneasy. It was an unfortunate discovery.

No matter what Liv had said when he first arrived, Lincoln's face was the last one she wanted to see right now. He understood why; in fact, he should have anticipated how she might feel, before jumping in head first. It was too soon, for both of them, as it turned out. Since he couldn't go back, he had to figure out how to go forward. 

After weighing his options, Lincoln decided to ask for a transfer. There was an opening in Atlanta on a task force investigating bank fraud, starting immediately. His prior experience was deemed acceptable and his minor in accounting an asset. After a video interview, he got an offer which he accepted. Soon thereafter, his stalled-out security clearance was waived by the Secretary of Defense and the transfer approved.

"We have white collar crime here in New York, Agent Lee," Captain Osuna had said at his exit interview, glancing at her data pad, at what he assumed was his transfer request. His former boss, Maggie Osuna, was the officer in charge of Public Affairs. "This universe not living up to your expectations?" 

"Yes. I mean no." Something in her expression made him realize she was just yanking his chain. "Oh. You're kidding." He shook his head. "Of course." His explanation was as much for himself as for Osuna. "The adjustment is...harder than I'd expected, for everyone, not just myself." The grief and guilt he could see in Liv's eyes every time she looked at him. He didn't want to get used to that. "I've never been to Atlanta. Everything there will be new."

"You think getting a fresh start will make a difference?" she said more gently.

"Yes, I do." It had better. 

The transfer was made effective the first of July. This gave him time to tie up loose ends in New York and find an apartment in his new city. Liv was out of town, visiting her mother. He debated whether or not he should call her. A letter would be simpler, except they didn't have paper or pens or pencils. Everything over here was electronic, even personal correspondence. Trees were a precious resource. You didn't burn them or cut them down and turn them into paper—of any kind. Bidets had been a revelation. Instead of paper cards, there were hundreds of websites full of video greeting cards in every language. Singing bears, tumbling clowns, dancing pigs—you name it, you could find it. He didn't think there was a card for what he needed to say to Liv.

In the end, he opted for a videogram, its arrival timed to coincide with his first day in Atlanta. With something pre-recorded, he could make certain he said precisely what he wanted her to hear. He couldn't risk blurting out feelings he didn't understand and couldn't articulate, even to himself. But he needed Liv to know that his leaving wasn't a rejection of her. He thought they could both use some breathing space. 

It was a good plan. He was still in the middle of crafting his message when there was a knock on his door. Since there weren't many people who knew where he was staying, he shouldn't have been surprised to find Liv standing there when he opened the door. 

For a moment, Liv looked as uncertain as he felt but she recovered quickly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Lincoln shook himself out of his revery. "Sorry. Of course." He stepped aside to let her by, mentally chastising himself for his loss of composure. It was a small room, sparsely furnished, in a hotel not meant for a long term stay. Liv pulled out the desk chair and straddled it, leaning on the chair back. Lincoln had to settle for the bed. At least, true to form, he had made it first thing that morning. 

"I understand you're moving to Atlanta." 

He loved that she just came out with it, didn't bother with small talk. Liv always said what she needed to say. "Yeah. The end of this week. In fact, Thursday is my last day." She nodded, as if in confirmation. "How did you find this out?" he asked, his tone a bit sharper than he intended. Damn it. He was rattled. Her visit wasn't part of his plan.

She gave him a knowing look. "My spies are everywhere. I assumed you knew that." This was followed by a smile that reminded him of why he had given up a universe to follow his heart. He could feel an ache behind his solar plexus. 

Lincoln couldn't help but return her smile. "What do your sources tell you about my new boss?"

"You'll do fine, Lincoln." She stood up, straightened her jacket. Catching a glance at her reflection in the mirrored closet door on the adjacent wall, she smoothed an errant lock of hair back into place. He wanted to do that, longed to do it. "I just wanted a chance to say goodbye," she said softly. 

Instead of replying in kind, or saying "thank you," or God help him, reaching out to her, he just stood there, like a dolt, tongue-tied and inept as ever. He hadn't even finished his letter!

"Don't go," he blurted out. "Let me buy you dinner." She frowned but didn't refuse. He took a deep breath. "Please." Maybe he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

Her face softened. "Okay. You're on." She put the chair back where it belonged and leaned against the door. "Can I pick the place?"

He didn't know any restaurants in New York, apart from the diner adjoining the hotel. A date with Liv in a diner? No way. That brought back memories he'd rather not revisit, for now. 

"Yes. Please do." He thought again about his aborted videogram. He could do better. She deserved so much more than that. So did he, he realized with a start. "Maybe somewhere quiet, where we can talk? Give me a chance to explain myself, why I'm leaving New York."

Weather in spring could be unpredictable but there was no rain in tonight's forecast. He could leave his suit coat behind. He risked a look at Liv's outfit. She was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. She looked good, really good. He, on the other hand, was dressed like an accountant. He took off his tie and set it on the dresser, resisting the impulse to hang it up in the closet. Flinging caution to the wind, he unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. 

When she extended her hand to him, he took it without hesitation. That confidence was something new for him but—it just felt right. Whatever they were to one another, whatever they would become, it wasn't cast in stone. They could figure it out along the way. Holding hands, he and Liv walked out together into the cool night air.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [a poem by Emily Dickinson](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-face-we-choose-to-miss/).
> 
> I don't recall what Blue Lincoln majored in or where he went to school. Since the transcripts for _Fringe_ have disappeared from the Net (sob!), I have no way to find out without watching the episode, so I made shit up. Sue me. I should also mention that [The Alternate Universe Survival Guide](http://www.ficml.org/jemimap/sg1/ship/auguide.html) is the memorable title of an old _Stargate SG-1_ fic by Jemima Pereira that is still on teh interwebs! (I should save that story before it does disappear. Check out that website and the purple wallpaper!) It and its sequel are all kinds of adorable even if, like me, you don't ship Jack and Sam. "The Shock of the New" is a real TV series on modern art that my husband and I watched back in the eighties. For the purpose of this fic, Blue Lincoln's nerdy brain works like mine and spits out associations at random.


End file.
